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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23025754">Meddling Muggleborns</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofbadfaith/pseuds/ofbadfaith'>ofbadfaith</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark Magic, Draco Malfoy &amp; Harry Potter Friendship, Draco Malfoy is a Brat, Everybody Lives, F/F, Good Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Chamber of Secrets, Hogwarts Era, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Hogwarts Fourth Year, Hogwarts Third Year, M/M, Parseltongue, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Rated M for future works, Salazar Slytherin - Freeform, The Golden Trio</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:33:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,408</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23025754</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofbadfaith/pseuds/ofbadfaith</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Ginny Weasley had never received Tom Riddles diary? What if it had fallen into different hands? </p><p>A world in which Draco Malfoy is taken to the Chamber of Secrets and saved by Harry Potter. </p><p>--</p><p>"You cannot be serious?" Harry snarls, hands curled into fists at his sides and eyes glinting angrily behind his glasses. </p><p>"I'm afraid so, Harry. It will inevitably reach dangerous ears that Draco was involved in the destruction of something important to Voldemort, as it already has amongst the students. For his safety he must be relocated, there are many of his followers that would be non too happy to hear a Malfoy betrayed their Lord yet again."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>204</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my first posted work so please bare with me.</p><p>This story will start in second year but take place from Third Year onward and will loosely follow the canon but will take some very, very liberal twists and turns.</p><p>A lot of inspiration taken from other fantastic fanfiction writers and I'd particularly like to praise Lomonaaeren who builds the most incredible worlds that I want to live in.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Prologue.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Hermione would suffer for this.</p><p> </p><p>Looking to all the world like a man about to be tortured Harry Potter vowed there and then that he would track down his interfering best friend and put an end to her ways here and now. It was her fault that he was here, for the third time in two months, some squib Doctor that was supposed to help him ‘process’ and ‘adjust’ to a world without a raving mass murderer after his head. As if.</p><p> </p><p>Harry was doing just fine, thank you very much. Who cared if he wasn’t leaving Grimmauld Place? He had everything he needed and more in that decrepit old house that was slowly becoming a slightly-wonky home. There was nothing more for him to offer the world and the sooner he left home, the sooner the rest of them would realise it. </p><p> </p><p>There’s a rustling of papers that draws Harry from the daze he was lost in, brow furrowed and jaw clenched, and when his weary green eyes meet those of Doctor Kim he forces himself to exhale and relax, melting into the comfortable black leather of the chair.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re sure I can’t get you anything to drink?” Doctor Kim asks, her pen already poised on the notebook she brings to every session and Harry just swallows around the dry feeling in his throat that never leaves no matter how much he drinks and shakes his head. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine.” </p><p> </p><p>“Alright then, shall we pick up from last weeks session? We were discussing your first memories of magic, I believe you had just vanished some glass and had a chat with a snake at the zoo last we spoke.” She chuckles lightly but Harry can see the same discomfort in her face as anyone else who has heard of his parseltongue. It was hidden well but not well enough for someone so used to looking for it.</p><p> </p><p>It’s been years since a look like that could draw more than an a roll of the eyes out of him. </p><p> </p><p>“Er, right, yeah - so Dudley, he’d fallen in and I got punished for it.” Discomfort rolls off of him in waves already, he detests talking about the Dursleys, it always has the power to make him feel small and worthless as if Uncle Vernon was in the room with him, whispering right down his ear.</p><p> </p><p><em> ‘What’s the point?’ </em>Harry inwardly complains for the millionth time in an hour, dragging up old crap with the Dursleys had nothing to do with Voldemort and merely set his nerves on edge.</p><p> </p><p>“And did you continue to talk to snakes?” Doctor Kim asks politely, clearly spotting her growing doom in the form of a scowl upon his face and Harry wonders just how terrified she is of him really, to look unprofessional when talking about his ability and has to bite back a laugh when she flinches when he folds his leg too quickly. </p><p> </p><p>Luckily for him she was bound by some pretty powerful magic to <em> never </em>reveal anything he says.</p><p> </p><p>“No, not really, not that many around Little Whinging. The occasional garden snake when my chores had me out in the garden but…” Harry sighs and sinks further into the chair, slouching in a way that would have Hermione ranting about his spine, “It was just another thing that made me a freak. So I didn’t bother and almost forgot about it until Second Year.” </p><p> </p><p>“Oh?” Doctor Kim prompts, as if <em>most </em>of the story wasn’t already documented in Merlin knows how many books by now, “What happened in Second Year?” </p><p> </p><p>This time Harry does roll his eyes, “That’s when Voldemort took Draco Malfoy into the Chamber of Secrets and I rescued the ungrateful git from a Basilisk.” </p><p> </p><p>The Doctor tips her head for him to continue and he sighs, kicking one dragonhide boot against the coffee table, “It was his Dads fault really,<em> stupid twat </em> that he is, he had this Diary laying around at home. . .”</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Harry is blindsided.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry Potter was furious. </p><p> </p><p>No, the Gryffindor was so beyond furious that he had transitioned into stone cold rage.</p><p> </p><p>He couldn’t believe he had just risked his life for bloody <em> Malfoy.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Malfoy! The nasty git that had called his best friend a Mudblood at the start of term.</p><p> </p><p>Yet… It was the Malfoy that had looked <em> terrified </em>and for far too long appeared dead on the floor of the Chamber. The Malfoy that had used what little strength he had had left to help Harry use the Basilisk fang on that blasted diary the blonde had been obsessed with all year. </p><p> </p><p>It seemed so obvious now, even though their mission to Slytherin Common room had come up with nothing on the Slytherin they should have kept looking. </p><p> </p><p>Of course it would be Draco Malfoy that stole some old book from his Father's study and got himself possessed by Voldemort, it was exactly what the snotty git deserved for sticking his nose where it didn’t belong and probably just what his Father wanted.</p><p> </p><p>Only… The blonde had looked broken to find out it was he who had set the Basilisk loose in the castle petrifying students and almost getting them killed. Not at all like Harry had expected, though he hadn’t had too much time to dwell on it at the time, what with the giant snake trying to murder him and all. </p><p> </p><p>Afterwards when they were both recovering in the Hospital Wing the blonde had whispered his thanks into the darkness, likely thinking the other asleep and Harry, eyes already fluttering had been just as quiet with his mumbled ‘<em> no problem. </em>’ It had been such a brief conversation between bouts of unconsciousness that Harry wasn’t even certain it had really happened. </p><p> </p><p>When he had woken the next morning Malfoys bed was empty and he’d heard nothing of him since. Not that he cared. Madam Pomfrey had muttered something about ‘interfering Govenors’ when he asked about it and Harry had let it go.</p><p> </p><p>Would be nice to know he didn’t get bitten by a basilisk for naught though and that the blonde was alright.</p><p> </p><p>It took far too long for the Mediwitch to let him leave the Hospital Wing and he was already in a foul mood as he stomped around the room when Snape appeared in the doorway with a nasty clearing of the throat, sneering at Harry like he was a roach he’d just stepped on. </p><p> </p><p>“Headmaster Dumbledore <em> requests </em> your presence.” Comes the acidic sneer, the man turning and leaving with a snap of his robes before Harry can even open his mouth to formulate some sort of response. Even the humor in Snape being used as Dumbledore's dramatic and hideous owl couldn’t cure the Gryffindor of his bad mood.</p><p> </p><p>After relaying the news to a reluctant Madam Pomfrey he’s freed to leave and he drags his feet just for the sake of it all the way to the Headmasters Office, pulling up short when he realises he has no idea what the password is. </p><p> </p><p>The gargoyles however open their eyes when they spot him, sharing a conspiratorial wink between themselves before parting to grant him entry without a word. </p><p> </p><p>Shrugging the Gryffindor makes his way onto the moving stairs and to the Headmasters office, knocking twice before following the call to enter. </p><p> </p><p>“Ah, Harry, my boy, it is excellent to see you looking so well. I see Madam Pomfrey has taken good care of you these past few days?” Dumbledores eyes twinkle with mirth behind his half moon glasses, no doubt all too aware of Harrys reluctance in his confinement. </p><p> </p><p>“Yes sir.” The boy murmurs, taking a seat and shaking his head at the offer of a Humbug from a platter on his desk, “I feel fine now.” He did, even if his arm still ached and his head twinged with pain here and there. </p><p> </p><p>“Good, good, Harry. First I would like to congratulate you on another example of Gryffindor courage down in the Chamber. I have spoken to Mr. Malfoy and heard much of the story from him and his tale is no different than your own.” </p><p> </p><p>Unsure of what the Headmaster expects him to say Harry just nods, glancing at the diary on the Headmasters desk, appearing to any eye as unassuming as any other book if one ignored the jagged hole in the middle of it.</p><p> </p><p>“Though you deserve this praise and more I have called you in for a different matter, Harry.” </p><p> </p><p>Relief surges through Harry, praise he couldn’t handle but this, whatever it was, was something that was less likely to make him want to shed his own skin. What a bizarre thought that was.</p><p> </p><p>“Draco Malfoy will be joining you in Gryffindor House next year.” </p><p> </p><p>Dead silence. Even Fawkes ends his soft crooning to look over at Harry with dark soulful eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“You cannot be serious?” Harry snarls, hands curled into fists as his sides and eyes glinting angrily behind his glasses.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m afraid so, Harry. It will inevitably reach dangerous ears that Draco was involved in the destruction of something important to Voldemort, as it already has amongst the students. For his safety he must be relocated, there are many of his followers that will be non too happy to hear a Malfoy betrayed their Lord yet again.”</p><p> </p><p>“But Voldemort is dead!” Harry argues, leaning forwards to gaze at Dumbledore with desperation, “Why does it matter what some old farts in Azkaban think?” </p><p> </p><p>Sadness colours the Headmasters expression and he shakes his head, “It is not that simple, Harry. There are many followers of Voldemort that were never caught or escaped imprisonment through other means and many of their children now reside in Slytherin Dormitories, with loyalties they cannot so easily defy.” </p><p> </p><p>“But why <em> Gryffindor </em>? Can’t the Ravenclaws take him? Or the Hufflepuffs? I’m sure they’d welcome Malfoy with open arms!” </p><p> </p><p>“I did not make the decision, Harry. Mr Malfoy did, or rather I should say the Sorting Hat made it for him.” Tipping his head so that his eyes look grandfatherly behind their glasses he folds his hands beneath his chin, lips curved into a small knowing smile, “It appears he had had enough stubbornness to get exactly what he wanted in first year without a fight but the hat was quite smug to be sending Mr Malfoy ‘<em> exactly where he should be </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>That leaves Harry blinking, remembering his previous conversation with the Headmaster regarding one's choices when Harry had been so upset about his possibility of being a Slytherin. So Malfoy had demanded his place in Slytherin just like Harry had demanded anything <em> but </em>the house. </p><p> </p><p>Huh. Interesting. </p><p> </p><p>“So he’s just fine with this?” Harry questions incredulously, brow tight and Dumbledore chuckles, glancing at a burn mark on his desk and tracing it with his fingers, “Ah, Mr Malfoy will come around, I’m sure. Once he has been home and his Father has talked some sense into him.” </p><p> </p><p>“Speaking of Lucius Malfoy,” Dumbledore continues with a mischievous smile, “He has left something for you as a peace offering and an apology.” </p><p> </p><p>“What? For me?” Harry looks horrified and a couple of the portraits adorning the walls chuckle outloud as Dumbledore snaps his fingers.</p><p> </p><p>With a sharp crack Dobby appears, beaming up at Harry while clutching a perfectly white sock and Harry gasps at the significance, “Mr Malfoy freed Dobby, Harry Potter, sir! Dobby is free! Nows Dobby is Harry Potters elf, Harry Potter, sir! Dobby be around whenever Harry Potter needses him!” </p><p> </p><p>Harry gapes and swallows back a groan of dismay, looking to the Headmaster for help who merely grins in return, leaving the Gryffindor to handle this himself. </p><p> </p><p>“But Dobby, how can you be my elf if you’re free?” </p><p> </p><p>“Dobby is choosing! Dobby is a free elf but Dobby is choosing to help Harry Potter, sir. I’s be working here at Hogwarts for whens yous here and I’s be around when you’s not.”</p><p> </p><p>Visions of exploding cake appears in his mind and Harry groans aloud, “Dobby, no, you cannot visit me when I’m at the Dursleys.” </p><p> </p><p>“Of course, sirs. I’s not visit!” The elf shares a look with Fawkes of all people that just makes Harrys dread grow but before he can continue Dumbledore interrupts.</p><p> </p><p>“You should be going, Harry. Your friends will be glad to see you at the feast, I’m sure. If you leave now you’ll be able to make it in time for dessert. I heard from a reliable source that they’re serving treacle tart tonight.” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I appreciate any and all feedback you guys can give me. It's my first work so obviously going to make some mistakes here and there. </p><p>Comments and kudos appreciated! Thanks so much.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Current goal is to try and get at least a chapter out a day. </p><p>I'm writing as I go though and god knows I'll likely get distracted on days.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Third year started much the same as his other weeks before Hogwarts had begun; unbridled chaos. If it wasn’t being hidden away on some island or being harassed by a house elf it was blowing up his aunt and finding out a mass murderer was after </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry really shouldn’t have been surprised.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That being said there were a few things that were different this year and both of them were currently sitting in a compartment with him in an awkward silence. Ron and Hermione had abandoned him to look for Neville and Ginny. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, strike that, does it count as awkward for whoever the R.J.Lupin guy is if he’s asleep?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So…” Harry clears his throat and rubs the crumbling edges of his trainers together, “How was your summer, Malfoy?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco lifts his head to look at Potter down the slope of his </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfectly bred</span>
  </em>
  <span> pointed nose, chin lifting defensively, “Oh, it was just </span>
  <em>
    <span>brilliant</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Potter.” The blonde seethes sarcastically, “Which part was the best I wonder? Was it my parents almost separating? My Father receiving the hexing of a lifetime?” Actually, Draco muses to himself, that part was </span>
  <em>
    <span>kind of </span>
  </em>
  <span>pleasing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco wasn’t too happy with his Father for putting him at risk either. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Perhaps he owed his Mother a particularly nice fruit basket from Hogsmeade this year.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I think it was the fact </span>
  <em>
    <span>nobody</span>
  </em>
  <span> spoke to me all summer. Not one of my friends,” There’s so much venom in the word that Harry flinches, “Bothered to contact me or return my owls.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco sits, fuming that he’s just spilled his guts to Potter in a matter of moments but that’s what happens when someone with so much brilliant stuff to say is confined to house elves for company. It’s simply cruel.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I bet you had a great summer,” Draco mutters with a sneer, “Lord Potter prancing around the Muggle World like he owns it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s this, of all the things Malfoy has said that pulls the biggest reaction from Harry. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The raven haired boy bursts out laughing in Malfoys shocked face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You really are thick, Malfoy. Lord Potter,” Harry chuckles and slaps his leg, “Good one. My Muggle relatives are </span>
  <em>
    <span>awful.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I spent the end of my holidays in the Leaky because I blew up my Aunt.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She had it coming! You would have done worse, believe me. I didn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>mean </span>
  </em>
  <span>to do it. It just happened. So I ran away.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You ran away.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Malfoy. I ran away. I grabbed my stuff and got out of there before they could,” Harry pauses and shakes his head, “They’d try to stop me and then lock me up for the rest of summer. I couldn’t do it so I ran. Ended up on the Knight Bus, got off at Diagon Alley and met up with Ron and Hermione and the rest of the Weasleys.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If they’re giving out awards for masking ones disgust Draco deserves one and reminds himself to never ever sleep in one of the beds at the Leaky Cauldron when he’s older. No matter what. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not to… I don’t intend to be the bearer of bad news, Scarface. But you do know there’s a murderer on the loose after you, right?” Harry nods, shrugging like it’s no big deal and Draco growls, frustrated, “There’s no way I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>one of you.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry returns hotly, glancing quickly at the sleeping Professor beside him but the man remains unmoving.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gryffindor. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I’d never do something so stupid. You should have called for help, Potty. Ask a maid or whatever it is you have instead of elves out… There.” Malfoy doesn’t try to hide his sudder of revulsion and Harry rolls his eyes so hard he worries for the state of his already shoddy vision if he continues to suffer Malfoy for an entire year. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whatever, Malfoy. You got put in Gryffindor for some reason,” Harry’s squinting through his broken slightly grimy glasses, trying to </span>
  <em>
    <span>see </span>
  </em>
  <span>whatever the hat might have, “Only Godric knows why. Literally. So just shut up and deal with it and </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>be a dick to my friends.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dracos nose crinkles at the crude accusation and he opens his mouth to argue when the aforementioned ‘friends’ pour into their compartment. His jaw snaps closed and he glares, spreading his knees that little bit more to take up more room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Easy as that, Draco is ignored yet again, Potter sinking into such an easy rhythm of conversation with his friends, who seem equally as determined to ignore Draco as he is to ignore them; Dracos stomach curdles with a nasty black jealousy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This </span>
  </em>
  <span>should have been his.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It should be himself talking as animatedly as Granger was right now, with Potter watching on with rapt and fond attention while Theo or some other Slytherin prattled on with something stupid so Draco could tell him how </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong </span>
  </em>
  <span>they are. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco fumes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry laughs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco begins to concoct an evil plan involving Potter, his bed in Gryffindor Tower and some of his Mothers enchanted seamstress needles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The devious silent planning and chatter is interrupted by a sudden chill. As if simultaneously every window in the train had opened to admit icy air but with one terrified look at the still sealed window of their compartment and a faint memory of his Father discussing something through the floo in his office this summer and Draco </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knows but he cannot move. Cannot open his mouth to tell Potter to </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stay away from the door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The ice and terror has pinned him in place and suddenly he’s no longer inside of the once warm compartment. He’s inside the chamber, his vision might have blackened but he can smell the damp stone, the clinging stink of algae and blood so cloying under his nostrils that he almost gags but instead he screams. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At Least Draco thought he was the one screaming… No, it isn’t, his mouth is shut and there’s a padded cushion that could only belong to the Express against his back and it’s Potter screaming, thrashing on the floor as if he’s ill and Draco lifts his head to catch mangled, decaying claws reaching into the compartment through the opening door at the same moment a burst of blue magic flies past him and sends the dementor fleeing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The whole thing likely took place in under three minutes but Draco feels as if he just aged three years though he takes some comfort in the knowledge the threadbare robes the man who calls himself a Professor is wearing are most definitely older than him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eat this.” The weathered man pushes some chocolate into his hand and Draco doesn’t even have the energy to sneer at it, sagging against the chair just like the others, munching quietly on chocolate while listening to the hushed conversation taking place between the Gryffindors. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You alright, Malfoy?” Granger asks worriedly and Draco just slouches further.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s part of that cluster now whether he likes it or not.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco cannot stand to meet Potters' amused eyes across from him, the raven haired boy apparently comfortable enough to just outright </span>
  <em>
    <span>stare</span>
  </em>
  <span> at Draco and his robes now boasting red trim and a Gryffindor badge. The git shares an amused look with Weasley and Draco aims a well timed kick at the boys shin, gifting Weasley with a shoulder full of pumpkin juice that Potter had just been drinking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Satisfied the blonde returns to his meal, opting to ignore his new housemates and focus on his meal, not that he manages to make himself take more than a few bites. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One would think years of eating surrounded Crabbe and Goyle would have prepared him for this but Ron Weasley is on another level and even Granger looks repulsed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I realise you were raised on scraps Weasel but could you please </span>
  <em>
    <span>try </span>
  </em>
  <span>to stop sharing what’s in your mouth with the rest of us? Nobody is going to snatch your food away.” Draco doesn’t give a rats arse if his Mother told him to ‘play nice’ with Harry and his friends.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nobody should be forced to endure this kind of torture.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It isn’t Weasley that looks affected first however. It’s Potter that colours and slows the speed of his fork to his mouth, eyes flickering around as if to verify the lack of threat on his plate and Dracos’ eyes narrow in thought. Now wasn’t that interesting, more interesting is that nobody seems to </span>
  <em>
    <span>notice.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sod off, Malfoy.” Weasley manages to spit out eventually after swallowing a mouthful of food, drawing the blondes attention once more. “You’re at my table now and I’ll eat how I want. Nobody else gives a damn.” Ron looks to his housemates for agreement but finds them suddenly otherwise occupied, overly invested in their plates or the ceiling above them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s Weaselette that eventually speaks up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One lion amongst a house of cowardly house cats.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Weasleys hopeful expression falls so fast Draco snorts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I wouldn’t mind not seeing the back of your throat at every meal either.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gin!” Weasley cries in betrayal, like his sister has just sold his soul to a warlock promising riches and beauty just for agreeing with Draco. Actually, the ginger would probably be up for the sacrifice if it got him out of those hand-me-down robes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What, Ron? It’s true! I’ve always told you that you eat like a pig.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Harry? Hermione?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Smugly, Draco notes that both of them are failing to meet the redheads eyes and instead opt to stab at their food limply, meeting each other's eyes with resignation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t notice most of the time.” Potter promises with such sincerity in his eyes that even Draco believes him. Though now that he’s piecing the little pieces of Potters life together that’s probably because the other boy is too busy protecting his own plate to pay attention. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...” Granger looks sick to be agreeing with him and Draco feels some of his appetite to return, tucking into a buttered bread roll, “Well, Ron, I mean, you could work on it. I’ve mentioned it before…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Traitors! All of you. Bloody agreeing with Malfoy at </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>table.” Weasley mutters furiously, sweeping a glare at the Third Years and his sister. Ginevra, as Draco will call her in his head from now on for her display of bravery, rolls her eyes and returns to her meal and conversation with Longbottom. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Satisfied with the carnage caused Draco manages to finish his vegetables before sitting back and waiting to leave, his Mother's house elf Bippy was a drill sergeant that had been sure she could cure Dracos sickly childhood with fruit and vegetables alone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He cannot wait to escape behind the curtains of his bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco’s can’t even find the energy to mock Potter about fainting on the Hogwarts Express all evening and when he’s in bed that night, listening to the snores of Weasley and Longbottom, he wonders if Potter can still feel the same chill is bones that Draco could. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>----------------------------------------------------------</span>
  <span>∞</span>
  <span>----------------------------------------------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s a week and a half into the start of term when Draco has his first confrontation with the Slytherins he once thought of as </span>
  <em>
    <span>something-like</span>
  </em>
  <span>-friends. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Potter and Weasley are in Divination while Draco has a study period and had been on his way to the library when he was stopped, shoved boldly into the wall by a muscular shoulder that had once done the shoving for him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s dismaying to think that he feels safer with the gruesome twosome nearby but they’d annoyingly become a comfortable kind of white noise in the background in the last week or so, Granger too but he preferred not to think about her. She brought up an entirely new discomfort. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Traitor Malfoy.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So it was Milicent that has stepped up to take the reigns in Slytherin then, unexpected but not all that surprising now that Draco thought about it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bulstrode. Now that we’ve agreed your vision is up to par, step aside will you?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know who you think you’re talking to, Malfoy. Your Father can’t protect you now, you know? I heard </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>Father talking about how some of the old lot are seeking to start ‘The Hunt.” Milicent looks smug enough to have delivered some devastating blow but it falls on deaf ears, Draco has no idea what ‘The Hunt’ is and he merely settles for a bored glare, fingers slowly reaching for his wand just in case.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bulstrode, I’ve met your Father, his eyes are so far apart he couldn’t hunt a roasted hog.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The girl makes to lunge for Draco who is ready to draw his wand when there’s a sharp clearing of a throat and Dumbledore appears around the corner, book in hand and eyes attached to it. The old coot looks to all the world as if he’s just stumbled upon them but the look he levels at Draco after the Slytherins have scurried off says differently. “I’d like you to be more careful, Mr. Malfoy. Not all of your housemates were as sheltered as yourself from the realities of their parents and their particular… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Talents</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It may do you well to discuss the conversation you just had with your Father.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“... Of course, Headmaster.” Draco murmurs respectfully, jaw working to tamper down the irritation building that he hadn’t got to fire off any spells at the troll of a witch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And do try to stick with your friends, I believe Ms Granger would have been happy to accompany you to the library should you have asked.” The wizard closes his book with a snap and it disappears somewhere inside the magenta monstrosity that Dumbledore is wearing for robes, lips lifting into an amused smile that Draco has </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>seen directed towards him before Draco doesn’t even have a chance to bristle at the implication he’s friends with the Golden Bloody Trio before Dumbledore is strolling away, waving over his shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Some miraculous things can occur when one has courage to </span>
  <em>
    <span>ask.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>----------------------------------------------------------</span>
  <span>∞</span>
  <span>----------------------------------------------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next disaster comes on the day of Care of Magical Creatures with Hagird and Harry curses himself for not being more prepared but he’s been too preoccupied worrying about Sirius Black and his imminent death according to Trelawney to think all that much about Malfoy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It had become the norm where the blonde was just </span>
  <em>
    <span>there. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The git was typically suspiciously quiet and Harry could almost forget he was around most of the time, following himself and Ron and Hermione to and from classes and meals and disappearing behind the curtains of his bed as soon as he could. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Malfoy, Harry decided, had a very similar temperament to Hermiones new cat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco had actually been behaving for once, thank you very much. He had arrived on time to class with that awful book that had almost claimed a finger and remained quiet as the oaf talked about the Hippogriffs and how to show them due respect. Draco sneers at the Weasley who stumbles over his own feet when elbowed by Finnigan to volunteer and shoves the freckled coward out his way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The longer this dragged out the longer Draco had to remain stood in the mud and if anybody knew about respect and how to show it it was a Pureblood heir. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Weasley, step back before you piss your pants. That’s your only pair without a hole.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Strutting forwards, riding high on the look of surprise and what Draco will call admiration in Potters gaze the blonde comes to face the Hippogriff, sinking into a deep formal bow with his back to the class. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Really, Harry should have expected it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So should Draco.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Milicent Bulstrode shoves Crabbe into Pansy who stumbles and lands with his full weight on the Slytherins foot and the girl screeches loud enough to send birds fleeing from the canopy above.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s a stunned moment of silence where the forest itself seems to hold its breath before all hell breaks loose and Pansy starts screaming at Crabbe while Bulstrode laughs while Buckbeak </span>
  <em>
    <span>screams</span>
  </em>
  <span> and before Draco can stumble away from the suddenly rearing Hippogriff he’s driven to the floor with a stamp of a foot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The injury is minimal Draco will realise later but the shock has him shouting and raving about ‘wild brutish beasts’ and his ‘seeking hand’ as he’s carried away like some sort of baby in the arms of Hagrid, Potter and co running along at the giants' sides like they </span>
  <em>
    <span>care.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What were you playing at?” Hermione demands and Draco rolls his eyes, opening his mouth to defend himself that he didn’t actually do anything when Granger continues, “Not you, Malfoy. Hagrid! That wasn’t safe for any of us, what if Buckbeak had started a stampede?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Is it the shock of the injury or Grangers defense of him that makes Draco feel so lightheaded he wonders, eyes wide as he gawks at the bushyhaired witch, “You simply cannot throw a bunch of students in with wild creatures and hope for the best, Hagrid.” She continues, ignoring Harry and Rons attempts at getting her to calm down and the giant looks miserable enough that even Draco starts to feel a bit sorry for him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I need to go to the library, I’ll be down to visit after dinner tonight, Hagrid. We’ll work on some lesson plans together.” To soften the scolding she’s just subjected the man to she gives him a hug around a meaty hip before disappearing down a hallway. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Er, I can walk, you know. He didn’t get my leg.” Draco grumbles in the awkward quiet that follows, shuffling uncomfortably when a very audible sniffle comes from the mass of hair above him, “Put me down, Hagrid. I’m fine.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Potter and Weasley are looking at Draco like he’s got a second head and the blonde sniffs, clutching his injured arm closer to his chest, “A touch of dittany and I’ll be as good as new. Just… Don’t go telling anyone, Hagrid. If my Father finds out…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The blonde shrugs and lifts his chin, sneering at the lot of them, “He and my Mother have understandably become rather protective of me, unlike some they can’t afford to lose a few before noticing. I’ll be going to the Hospital Wing </span>
  <em>
    <span>alone</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You should return to your class.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Shout out to the lovely folks that pointed out I'd posted my previous chapter twice. </p><p>I'm still very much trying to decide just how my tropes I want to throw into this fic and I would love to hear some feedback. I'm very much a sucker for ancient magic that crops up in bloodlines, be that hereditary gifts such as empathy/some creature inheritance like Veela/connections to founders. I'm most likely going to use the cliche of founder heirs at some point, for at least one or two characters; guess who? ;) </p><p>Also, Sirius will not be dying in this fic. I've always had a fascination with House Black and the fanon lore around it and the possibilities of such an old magical family. Plus, Harry deserves some love, alright?</p><p>(My previous statement of a chapter a day may have been cocky)<br/>----</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>That night Harry doesn’t let Malfoy disappear behind his curtains.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Malfoy failed to appear at dinner and Harry and the others could only speculate that he was still in the Hospital Wing, no doubt basking in all the attention from Pomfrey and smearing Hagrids name through the dirt. It’s Hermione that squashes Rons theory of Malfoy ratting Hagrid out to his Father, reminding both boys that it had been Draco to brush them off earlier to stop fussing and that even if he did go to Lucius, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>been a dangerous situation and he would be within his rights. That had not earned Hermione any kind words from the two boys but she had stuck to her guns and disappeared to the library with an angry huff.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> When the blonde finally appears later that night, ducking through the Common Room with a clear intention to avoid everyone inside of it Harry jumps into action, pushing past a couple of first years and following the other boy up to their shared dormitory. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As far as Harry can see the blonde looks fully healed, maybe a little pale but that’s hard to tell with Malfoy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Malfoy.” Harry calls just as he makes it through the door to their bedroom, causing the blonde to stop and slow his pace, turning to look at the Gryffindor with an unimpressed expression.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you want, Potter?” Draco sounds so put out at having to talk to Harry, as if Harry is some sort of </span>
  <em>
    <span>burden</span>
  </em>
  <span> that something nasty uncurls in the black haired boy's stomach, rearing its ugly head for the first time in months. He and Malfoy have been practically civil since the whole ordeal with the Chamber and Harry had half forgotten just how easily the blonde could rile him up so he has to grit his teeth to hold back his response, working his jaw until he’s less likely to spew insults about the reflective surface of Malfoys hair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Think of Hagrid, Harry. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You alright?” Harry asks grudgingly, eyes flickering from the tip of Malfoys head to the ends of his boots, settling on the arm he had seen the boy clutching earlier. “I heard Seamus is planning some revenge on Bulstrode on your behalf, pretty sure he’s hated her since first year when she pushed him in the lake so he’s using it as an excuse but welcome to Gryffindor, Malfoy. You’ve got your first defender.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The deadpan stare is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>the expected response and Harry blinks behind his spectacles, “What? You’re not still mad about Hagrid are you, Malfoy? You heard ‘Mione, she’s going to help him out--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Forgive me, Potter. If I don’t think the Mudblood should have to spend her time teaching some half-breed how not to get children </span>
  <em>
    <span>mauled </span>
  </em>
  <span>to death.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t. Call. Her. That.” Malfoy is pushing his luck and Harry clenches his hands into fists at his sides, unbothered as his knuckles pop under the strain of it. “If it wasn’t for you being pretty decent with Hagrid earlier I’d have knocked you out for that. He’s new to teaching, Malfoy, don’t be a twat, he’ll not make this mistake again just you watch, he said he was sorry didn’t he? And Hermione was the only one even trying to </span>
  <em>
    <span>defend </span>
  </em>
  <span>you, you ungrateful arse so watch your mouth.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Snarling something about Hagrid being ‘undeserving of the opportunity to teach him’ Draco turns his back on Potter and begins shedding his outer robes, who does he think he is to be speaking to Draco like this? He’s a Malfoy, Hagrid should be here grovelling for his forgiveness. As for the Mudblood, well, Granger should be so lucky as to even get close enough to breathe near Draco, let alone defend him. Though the bushy haired bint had grown on him, he’d admit to noone. Like a fungus. “Not even a month in your presence and I’ve almost died, Potter. Have you ever been checked for a proximity curse? Your parents never stood a bloody chance.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The blow to the back of his head should have been expected but it still sends Draco stumbling with a shout, unable to fully turn around before another blow takes his breath away. “Don’t talk about my parents!” Harry screams and makes to launch himself at the blonde once more but Draco draws his wand, ducking under the next swing and using the opportunity to jab his wand into Potters throat and cast a quick Petrificus Totalus. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Truce over, Potter. Behave like a brute, be treated like one.” Dracos’ wand is still pressing firmly while Harry has ceased his struggles and the blonde hides a wince every time his arm is jostled. “I’ve been on my best bloody behaviour all term so far and </span>
  <em>
    <span>for what?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” A deeper dig of his wand, face coming in close to the flushed and furious one belonging to Potter, “All I wanted was to keep my head down and make it to the end of the year so I could convince my parents to transfer me to Beauxbatons. But you just wouldn’t,” Jab, “Leave,” Jab, “Me,” Jab, Alone! I couldn’t even take a piss without you or Weasel somehow needing one too, I’m not stupid! I know Dumbledore has put you up to it but </span>
  <em>
    <span>back the fuck off, Potter. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I don’t need you following me around like a bad smell.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With one last twist of the hawthorn wood into Harrys throat and an ugly sneer for good measure the blonde kicks Harrys solid body aside, allowing him to fall in what he hopes is a painful lump on the floor. “I’m sure someone will be around to free you soon, Potty.” Draco grabs his shower supplies and leaves for the bathroom, slamming the door and erecting as many locking spells as his magic can muster. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>While he’s scrubbing his skin raw in his fury Draco hopes morbidly that Black will sneak in and snatch Potter in the state he’s been left in. What a nice gift for his cousin it would make. Not that he had let Potter and his cronies know that little tidbit during their endless hours waffling over Black and his mission on Potters life. Personally, Draco thought it a bit arrogant to assume that Black would even want anything to do with Scarface, if Draco had been the one to just escape Azkaban he’d be hiding out in some long abandoned Black property and keeping his head down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s what Narcissa had always told him to do if the situation ever warranted it; Lucius had taken that as a personal attack on the safety he provided and the responding row had been lengthy and fierce. Draco had learned more than one thing from the ordeal, there were places he could run in the world that he would </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>be found and his Mother could wield her tongue like a whip when she wanted to. She had seemed to find a true enjoyment reminding Lucius that while the Malfoy line may be old and wealthy the Black name was ancient and their wealth lay in more than gold wasting in vaults.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unsure if he should be grateful that Potter is not still prone on the floor where he left him when he returns from his lengthy time spent in the showers Draco retires to bed with an extra strength sticking charm on his curtains and wand under his pillow. Despite what the lions spew about honor the blonde was ready for some kind of underhanded revenge from Potter during the night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>----------------------------------------------------------</span>
  <span>∞</span>
  <span>----------------------------------------------------------  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Blimey, Harry. Maybe we should go to Mcgonagall…” Ron responds with wide eyes that can’t decide if they want to look at the growing bruise under Harrys eye or the bust lip. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And tell her what, Ronald? That Harry </span>
  <em>
    <span>attacked </span>
  </em>
  <span>Malfoy when his back was turned or that he decided to ignore her advice at the start of term of giving him space?” Harry winces at Hermiones harsh tone and sinks further into the armchair he’s been tucked in ever since Neville found him petrified on the floor and freed him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “Like the bloke doesn’t feel miserable enough, Hermione. Lay off.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry looks at Ron gratefully, wincing when his attempt at a smile sets his lip ablaze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tell me again why he’s allowed to say whatever he wants and I just have to let him?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Harry—” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, Hermione. He said some right rotten stuff and he deserved exactly what I gave him.” Not, Harry bemoans inwardly, that the blonde had looked all that affected by Harrys attempts. “But,” Harry hastily continues as Hermiones mouth threatens to unleash another lashing, “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>guess </span>
  </em>
  <span>I deserved what I got too.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s enough for Ron, raised amongst brothers that would beat each other black and blue one minute and be up to all sorts of fun with in the next, he nods and looks between them with a set gaze, “It’s done then. Harry doesn’t owe Malfoy an apology and we won’t take revenge for Harry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before either of them can continue Ron pulls out a pack of exploding snap cards he’d kept inside a robe pocket and Hermione looks aghast, “Ron the box says to </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>keep them in your robes!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rolling his eyes the redhead starts dealing, “It’s fine, ‘Mione. I used to wake up in a bed full of them if I annoyed the twins too much, a snap or two is nothing.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Too busy nursing his lip to pay to care anymore, happy to just stop talking about the blonde git for a while Harry takes his cards, glancing at Hermione with what he hopes is a smile— “We’ve got Defense tomorrow, no homework left, let’s stop talking about </span>
  <em>
    <span>him </span>
  </em>
  <span>for a few hours, alright?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a roll of her eyes Hermione sighs and drops the book she had been fruitlessly holding in her lap and settles on a cushion on the floor, glaring balefully at them both, “Fine but I do wish you would stop behaving like a brute!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry can only smile weakly in response, recalling that that had been exactly what Malfoy had called him earlier. He definitely didn’t want to apologise to the git but maybe he could do something else instead, a peace offering of some sort; Malfoy had been right about one thing earlier, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>been relatively harmless other than a few barbs here and there. Which, Harry admits, would have been altogether avoidable if they had left the blonde alone instead of taking Dumbledore's suggestion to ‘keep an eye out for Young Malfoy’ so seriously. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I felt the muse today and pushed another chapter out! </p><p>This is where things will start to diverge from the canon some more.</p><p>--</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>If the weeks of silence are anything to go by, Malfoy did not sell Hagrid out to his Father and Harry never thought he would live to say it but he almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>missed </span>
  </em>
  <span>some of the gits snark now that there was none on offer. Harry had spent the last two weeks wracking his brain for a way to make it up to the blonde, instead of you know, just saying ‘sorry for riling you up.’ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The solution comes in the form of two redheaded troublemakers that reveal a map to Harry when he’s found moping after being refused permission to visit Hogsmeade. Not that he was going to give Malfoy his map, of course not but if Harry knows anything about Malfoy it’s that he can’t keep his nose out of anything he could use to get up to no good. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately for Harry the plan goes almost forgotten upon returning to the common room to discover the Fat Lady attacked and Gryffindor house on lockdown. The entire house was on edge and it wasn’t a surprise over the next week to see a few of the older students comforting clusters of first years in corners while other students would be gathering letters for a buddy-system run to the Owlery to contact home. Hermione had taken up the habit of reading Hogwarts: A History to first years before bed under the guise of ‘self study.’ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All the while Harry is wracked with guilt, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows </span>
  </em>
  <span>Black is after him, they all do. Who else would he be here for and often he catches Malfoy looking at him, brow furrowed whenever Harry raises the question of </span>
  <em>
    <span>why.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got to be having a laugh, Potter? Surely?” He cannot take it anymore, the ignorance had gone from amusing to frustrating and Potters ridiculous puppy dog eyes were driving him to distraction. “Black is after you because he failed to finish the job the night he ratted your parents out to the Dark Lord.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” Potter looks clueless and so does Weasley, Granger meanwhile looks as if she’s just found the last piece of a puzzle. “Of course! </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>why they’re concerned for you, Harry. Black did more than just murder Muggles, he must have been involved with You-Know-Who and your parents…” Hermione looks suitably chastened when Ron elbows her sharply with a hiss, “Curb your enthusiasm about it a bit would you, Mione?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, Harry.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“S’fine, Mione.” Harry grunts, glaring at Draco though even the blonde can tell that glare isn’t aimed at him, “What do you mean, Malfoy? Black knew my parents?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Blimey, Potter. You really know nothing do you? Come with me.” Draco rolls his eyes and tips his head for them to follow him out of the Common Room. If it wasn’t for the sheer boredom of being basically jailed in their Common Room between and after classes he’d have probably left Potter to sit in his confusion some more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Malfoy, curfew is—” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m aware of when curfew is, Granger, I can tell the time, now a little less nagging and more following and you’ll be back for your precious bedtime stories. Don’t get us caught and we’ll be fine.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry and Ron at least are curious enough to follow Malfoy with little complaint, Harry muttering something about ‘being kept in the dark’ the whole journey while Draco just does his best to avoid being seen by too many people </span>
  <em>
    <span>willfully </span>
  </em>
  <span>hanging out with Potter and chums after classes. No matter what others thought of him in Slytherin, nor his Father, Gryffindor house would not be the final nail in the coffin for him— Draco </span>
  <em>
    <span>would </span>
  </em>
  <span>make his mark before he transferred out and that didn’t mean becoming known as one of Potters groupies. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What is this place?” Granger asks with brows lost inside her bushy bangs, eyes wide and fingers reaching to brush across the spine of a nearby Year Book. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The Archives, you’ve never been here before then? Slytherins visit here pretty quickly in the first year to look up our parents and the Family Books, there’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>all sorts </span>
  </em>
  <span>in their files they didn’t share with us as kids.” Draco makes for a familiar corner that his Father and Mothers years are in, grabbing one and opening it at random with a pleasantly surprised laugh, “Look see, did you know that Terry Boots Dad was briefly suspended for trying to slip a poorly brewed Love Potion to Professor Vector?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>While Hermione is awed by the sheer history in the pages surrounding her, Ron is bored already  and Harry is struck by a longing so strong he stumbles towards the large emerald book labelled ‘Potter’ in what Harry guesses must be the shelves for the ‘Family Books.’ The shelves are huge, the entire room seems to grow the more you look but shrink when you’re no longer searching, returning to the domed shape circle with a few arches that lead into darkness. Harry is sure he would have been fascinated if it wasn’t for the book in his hands, dating back to the very first Potter to attend Hogwarts and he takes in </span>
  <em>
    <span>his history </span>
  </em>
  <span>with the thirst of a dying man. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can we remove the books?” Hermione inquires, saving Harry from removing his eyes from a story about some ancestor of his that had helped the original planting of the Forbidden Forest to ask the question himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” Draco admits reluctantly and he draws his wand to summon some parchment from a shelf, “But you can copy whole chapters to parchment and remove those if you choose.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How come I didn’t know about this place?” Ron asks a few shelves over from Harry, having found the Weasley book and Draco just cocks and eyebrow with a look that says more than his mouth will, “Ask your parents, Weasley. My parents told me about it the first time they told me about Hogwarts, I expect.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” Hermione's pleased gasp comes from somewhere, “There’s a book here that says I may be able to discover if I have any magical ancestors with some ritual.” Of course the Mudblood would be desperate to find some magical ancestors. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t get too excited, Granger.” Dracos smug shut down comes floating from the end of the aisle and he makes his way over, “This is blood magic. Dark Arts, technically. Doesn’t that offend your Gryffindor sensibilities?” He drops his voice so that Weasley and Potter can’t hear, dragging his finger across the text to tap the appropriate paragraph, “Here, it asks for your blood. Your </span>
  <em>
    <span>maiden </span>
  </em>
  <span>blood, Granger.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It may have only been seconds but Draco will live off of the look of confusion on Grangers face for the rest of his miserable life in Gryffindor house. It only just trumped what came next however, disgusted embarrassment and Draco grins, showing the points of his crooked canines (a ‘disfigurement’ he has long learned to hide with a smirk) and chuckles, “Don’t worry, I cast it myself in first year, it’s harmless.” At look she gives him he rolls his eyes, “If I was pure enough to help Professor Snape collect Unicorn Hair then I was pure enough to do a measly one drop blood offering. Virginity isn’t exclusive to women, Granger. How sexist of you, tsk.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The mudblood blushes and Draco is amused to notice that she is already copying the ritual steps from the book onto the parchment he supplied, apparently set on ignoring him now that he’s called her progressive personality into question. Excellent. Draco makes a note to do so some more in the future. It is interesting though that she failed to blanch at his mention of Dark Arts, typically Muggleborns started raving at just the mention of it. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>kind of behaviour that was partly fueling his hatred for all things not Pureblooded, why should he have to shun natural talents or hereditary gifts because it offends some Mudblood that thinks they know better? The schools reaction to Potters Parselmouth had been bad enough, the students should have been fuming with envy just like Draco, not cowardly fear and disgust. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I had family in Slytherin!” Comes Harry's shocked cry and Ron makes a sound of disgust somewhere that has Draco's lip curling to defend his house before he remembers that it’s not his house anymore is it, they quite happily turned their backs on him so why should he not do the same? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Blimey, Harry. That’s not just a couple either, generations of Potters…” Weasley sounds a little sick and Draco peeks around the shelves to see Potter sat against a shelf, legs crossed and attention thoroughly buried in the book perched upon his knees. “This is brilliant,” Potter breathes and when he looks up with sparkling emerald eyes and a grateful grin Draco has to look away before he does something stupid like grin back, “Thanks, Malfoy.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whatever, Potter. Look at the smaller book will you? I came here to show you something. Your line is long, you could spend all night here and never finish that book, it’ll just keep adding pages.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Reaching for the book in question Harry lifts an eyebrow at the title, glancing at Malfoy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s your family tree, you heard Granger before?” He doesn’t wait for a nod before continuing, plucking the book from Harrys hands and thumbing the pages until he stops and gives it a tap of his wand to encourage the hidden compartments to expand. The book that had once been no bigger than Dracos hand expands into a floating piece of parchment depicting the Potter line dating back 500 years, “This is the small version but it’s detailed, see,” Draco extends a finger and points in the general direction that Potters inked name is glaring at him from, being the last of ones line made the ink glow with a white light, “There’s you. Now look at your Godparents.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sound of Harrys back hitting a shelf in shock at Dracos display is satisfying but the satisfaction falls away when Potter makes a pained sound in the back of his throat and collapses to his knees with a sob; before Draco has to worry about being the one to try and comfort him the other two thirds of the trio arrive and Granger gathers him in a hug.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Harry…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He was their friend, Hermione!” Harry gasps and Draco watches as he rips off his glasses to push the heels of his hands into his eyes, “He was their friend and named him my Godfather and Black,” Draco is glad he isn’t Sirius Black with the hatred and ripples of power pouring off of Potter right now. “He betrayed them.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Potter pushes away from Weasley and Granger, staggering to his feet and giving Draco a look that the blonde can’t interpret, “I saw your name on there too, Malfoy. You’re Blacks cousin.” Swallowing back his first reaction which is to refute any suspicions Potter might have of a collusion was a good idea because Potter continues, “I bet you know some kind of magic like you were talking to ‘Mione about that could let us track him down, don’t you?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thrown for a loop Dracos mouth falls open and he looks at Potter incredulously, “Did you miss the part about blood magic being Dark Arts, Potter?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nope. Did I stutter? Do you or do you not know a spell for it? If Black is coming for me, let’s beat him to it. I want to make him pay before the Dementors get to him.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Granger looks pale, Weasley a little sick and Draco feels like he’s just fallen into another universe where Harry Potter is asking to be taught Dark Arts.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A big thank you to my two dear friends Abi and Dom who are helping me get this idea into words. </p><p>Too often do I just end up using my concepts for RP's instead. </p><p>And another thank you to anyone giving me kudos &amp; comments, you have no idea how much it keeps me motivated to continue to write. </p><p>As always, all feedback appreciated and I unfortunately don't won Harry and gang.</p><p>--</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Harry—..” Granger starts with a hitch but Potter seems to silence her with a glare.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mate, Dark Arts? Really?” Tries Weasley, pale and spooked but it falls on deaf ears, Potter is staring at Draco with such an intensity that the blonde feels his hairs stand on end. Unfortunately for Draco, his magic has always been responsive around Potter and his bold displays of it but it’s worse when all of that focus is directed at </span>
  <em>
    <span>him. </span>
  </em>
  <span>His Mother had warned him, in one of her many letters to him during First Year, that he should always be wary around powerful Wizards, even if they are snotty eleven year olds, strong magic called to some of older blood and made them do ridiculous and often dangerous things for just a taste of it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He would </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>be cowed by Potters power. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry to kick you when you’re down Potter but </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck no.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’m fourteen, do I look ready to head to Azkaban for teaching the Boy Who Lived some albeit weak as piss Dark Arts who dies using it? Or worse, you find Black and then what? He murders you. Granger and Weasley rat me out if they’re not also dead at Blacks hands.” Draco sneers at the three of them, drawing his arms over his chest, “And if I ever do choose to be part of your unwitting demise in the future, it would be much more subtle than this so no, Potter. Teach yourself, it’s basically Dark Arts for babies, Pureblood children are taught to be able to track family young incase of kidnappings so I’m sure even you can figure it out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With the momentum successfully pulled out from under him Harry's shoulders slump and he turns from Draco with a brooding glare, “Fine! I </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> teach myself,” Draco can’t help noting Potter's eyes flickering in Granger's direction here and rolls his eyes, “And track Black down and avenge my parents.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How very Slytherin of you, Potter. Revenge is usually our cup of tea.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Piss off, Malfoy. You’re not a Slytherin anymore remember.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Harry, mate, dabbling in Dark Arts isn’t a good idea…” Weasley looks stricken, as if he’s lost something profound when Potter didn’t instantly recoil in disgust at the very idea of dabbling in dark magic and Draco grinds his teeth in irritation, snapping, “Oh, come off of it Weasley. I guarantee your Mum knows how to cast it but chooses not to, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>your lot </span>
  </em>
  <span>and your narrow view on magic that make this an issue in the first place!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>My lot.</span>
  </em>
  <span> What’s that supposed to mean Malfoy?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Blood Traitors— There’s a reason you get the name. You turn your back on the magic in your blood in favour of appeasement and fear, </span>
  <em>
    <span>pathetic.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Draco spits, “At least Mu- Muggleborns like Granger have the excuse of ignorance, your kind willfully ignore branches of magic that they </span>
  <em>
    <span>think,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Granger looks like she wants to intervene but is caught between intrigue at the conversation and reluctance to get snapped at yet again, “Make someone ‘Dark’, as if having talents in branches of magic that aren’t fucking Herbology or Charms makes someone a devil.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You-know-who-” Weasley opens his mouth, cheeks flushed and the tips of his ears a vibrant red and Draco has to give it to the redhead, he makes an intimidating figure when he’s at his full height and the blonde can only dread the growth spurts the redhead has to come.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Magic existed before the Dark Lord, Weasley! There’s been plenty of Light Lords that have done awful things too, you know. France only </span>
  <em>
    <span>just </span>
  </em>
  <span>got rid of theirs; she used her talent in charms to begin ridding entire towns of Muggles, she would just </span>
  <em>
    <span>ask</span>
  </em>
  <span> them to walk towards the ocean and not stop and they’d do it, because she’s powerful not because she’s dark. And why? Because she thought her people deserved the towns instead and she never used a lick of Dark Arts to do any of it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By now Draco is vibrating with frustration, these people would never understand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This </span>
  </em>
  <span>was the difference between Purebloods and those half-in and half-out of their world. The more Muggle blood brought into it, the more distaste for their roots and the darker shades of magic, they believed them </span>
  <em>
    <span>barbaric</span>
  </em>
  <span>. As if Avada Kedavra had not been invented to cull cattle painlessly. It was enough that he was forced to celebrate holidays such as Christmas and Halloween instead of Yule and Samhain, stuck with a shoddy log in the Common Room which he probably wouldn’t even get at all this year. “Half the bloody syllabus for a Mediwizard is Dark Arts as defined by the modern Ministry, did you know you could face five years in Azkaban for clearing someone's airway without a license if reported?”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Finish up here yourselves. I’m done, Potter. Just remember when you’re trying to lure Black and get yourself killed that there are other people in this castle, would you? Not everything is about The Mighty Boy Who Lived.” With one last glare Draco storms off and leaves the Golden Trio alone, an uncomfortable gap opened up between them that Draco can’t even enjoy because he’s too wound up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So much for keeping his head down and mouth shut. Draco had revealed far too much about himself this evening and all he wants now is to retreat into his bed and write to his Mother. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Salazar strike him down, even Draco realises how pathetic that sounds; he just resists the impulse to bounce his head off of the stone wall of the hallway. He’s too pretty to run the risk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What a miserable creature he had become. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>----------------------------------------------------------</span>
  <span>∞</span>
  <span>----------------------------------------------------------  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s a moody few weeks for everybody involved that night in The Archives, the Golden Trio barely seem to be talking and it doesn’t please Draco as much as he had believed it would. Nights are spent in an uncomfortable quiet or in solitude, occasionally he’ll even lower himself to join Granger in the library. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lupin seems to be the only person able to draw more than a grunt from Harry these days, the boy spends much of his time stewing over Sirius Black and his betrayal of his parents and with the approach of Halloween night his mood only gets worse. “I’m going to see Lupin.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Again, Harry?” Hermione asks with a furrow of her brow, unsure if she should ask Harry about the nature of his visits with the Professor or leave it be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So what?” Harry defends, opening his mouth to defend his trip and Hermione frowns, “Don’t speak to me like that Harry Potter. I was just asking a question, that’s all. Do what you want,” She begins to gather up her things, not taking her usual time to make sure they are neatly tucked away, “I don’t find myself much up for caring anymore tonight.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Trudging out of the Common Room minutes later Harry ignores the guilt pooling in his stomach at his treatment of his friend, ducking into an alcove to draw his invisibility cloak over his shoulders and pull the recently acquired Marauders map from his back pocket. Harry has no intentions of visiting Lupin tonight and hasn’t done half the previous times his friends have thought him visiting the bedraggled Professor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They just wouldn’t understand. Their arguments after their initial visit to The Archive had made that very clear and it wasn’t like Harry was going to ask Malfoy again when he’d got such a lashing for it last time. Harry was doing all of this alone. He’d track Black down and he reckoned that the map the Weasley twins had given him earlier in the year would be just the thing for it— Couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it until now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Plans of capturing an escaped killer aside, Harry has another mission in mind for tonight and he pats his bag to check he’s got everything before making a quiet journey amongst the corridors to the Girls Bathroom on the second floor, careful to avoid any sign of Filch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “Myrtle?” Harry whispers into the quiet, removing his cloak and tucking it away in his bag for later. His glasses are knocked askew when he’s sent stumbling by the appearance of Myrtle from the toilet behind him, upsetting the water and sending it sloshing against his ankles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Harry,” The girl smiles sweetly, floating to hover over the sinks in the middle of the bathroom, “You kept your promise to visit me. That’s good of you, I didn’t think you would, so many boys have lied to me over the years.” By the end she’s sniffling and Harry shuffles awkwardly, never having had much experience with crying girls— Particularly dead ones. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Myrtle has been the biggest obstacle for his plan so far so he has to tread carefully.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Er, right, of course I did. I promised, didn’t I? I’m going to be coming to visit a lot more I think,” Harry licks his lips, throat dry and uncomfortable with the fibs and Harry looks around before lowering his voice for Myrtle alone to hear, “I want to make a place I can hang out nearby, where you can visit…” The ghost squeals and Harry hastens to hush her, shaking his head rapidly, “But I can’t be caught, Myrtle! They’ll never let me visit if they find out I’m hanging around in the girls bathroom… But what about the Chamber?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s a risk, of course, Myrtle could go telling Dumbledore all about Harry's attempt to get into the Chamber or throw a fit about the creature that once took her life but fortunately loneliness seems to win out, just like Harry had hoped it would. It sure would have for him during his lonely years before Hogwarts and the summers that followed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can get down there. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>usually because it’s pretty creepy but if </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re </span>
  </em>
  <span>there I’ll be just fine.” Myrtle flutters pale lashes and Harry feels the tips of his ears warming with a creeping pink, “Good, right well I’ll just… Try and open it up shall I? Can you keep a lookout?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Myrtle nods and Harry takes a few steps nearer to the sinks, fingers running across the taps until he finds the one he needs. It’s a shame that he has to be able to see a snake to speak parseltongue but he supposes it makes sense, “</span>
  <b>
    <em>Open.</em>
  </b>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Removing a bed sheet he’d stolen from his bed this morning Harry wraps it around himself before looking back at the curious yet cowering ghost now hidden in a cubicle, “Thanks, Myrtle. I’ll check it out and clean it up a bit and be back to see you in a bit.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t die, Harry. Or do. Whichever you like better just make sure to come back.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry coughs, “Will do. Hopefully alive.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gripping all of his belongings close to his chest and the sheet clutched tightly around his uniform he jumps down into the tunnel awaiting him, his whoop of joy lost as the entrance closes behind him and darkness engulfs his vision. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lumos. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bollocks. He knew he was forgetting something.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>In a room deep within the Chamber of Secrets.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s back. Wake up.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come on, stop this, we’ve been discussing this for </span>
  <em>
    <span>months. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It’s time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What if he’s just another To—” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You saw what he did last year, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>destroyed </span>
  </em>
  <span>that disgusting diary and saved that boy, that’s not the kind of boy you’ve met before.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A drawn out sigh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine, if I must but you can bugger off to your own portrait for it and stay there til’ I’m finished.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Howdy folks! </p><p>We're world building for a few chapters I think, I'd like to show *my* personal take on how the Wizarding World could have been. I've been writing Draco/Harry for a long time in roleplays and read my fair share of fantastic fanfiction to build up my own 'fanon' take. Excited to share it with you all and so, so happy that many of you enjoyed my take on Dark Magic! </p><p>It will definitely be something Harry will explore, whether that's alone or not is up to fate to decide. </p><p>Context is everything, intent is key. </p><p>That pretty much sums up my opinion of the different brands of magic.</p><p>--</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Unquestionably filthy (even with the sheet) by the time he reaches the bottom Harry curses and looks down, an odd bone clinging to his robes and slime from the inside of the slide coating his back. Granted, he does the best he can to clean himself up but even with the little household magic he’s picked up from Mrs. Weasley last year he’s grubby and itchy by the time he starts walking again, wand lit and a bag slung over his shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On his first trip down here Harry had been terrified and had a whole lot more on his mind than taking in the decor of the place but this time around he takes his time, he has til morning and he’s given up his intent for any sleep tonight; it won’t be the first time he’s had to drag himself through the day due to lack of sleep or the last. The walls of the tunnels are dirty but Harry notices they also generally seem </span>
  <em>
    <span>unfinished </span>
  </em>
  <span>in comparison to the main chamber, in what he’ll name as the Atrium, with the first set of snakes for him to open actually has torches in it though they gave off a sickly green light that gave Harry little comfort after lighting them with Lumos. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From what Harry has heard about Salazar Slytherin, which if he’s honest is very little, and from the way the Slytherins themselves behave he finds it increasingly hard to imagine the man living here in this kind of condition.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry doesn’t know what to make of the giant corpse of a slain basilisk that still lay here, inaccessible to anyone but him but looking to all the world as if he had fought the thing only yesterday. Perhaps there was some sort of magic down here, to preserve the thing or maybe it was just </span>
  <em>
    <span>bloody freezing </span>
  </em>
  <span>enough to slow the process. Dropping his bag near his feet Harry shivers, eyes taking in the huge room housing the beast that had nearly stolen his and Dracos life last year and wishes he could just vanish the whole thing, not that it takes up much space considering the chambers size. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What a miserable place to die.” Harry mutters, rubbing his already chilled fingers together and swallowing back the impulse to just head back to Gryffindor tower before it was too late to get some sleep, the warmth and safety of his four-poster calling to him something fierce, ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>No, get a grip, Harry. You’ve faced worse than some cold and a corpse, what would Hermione do?’ </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before Harry even gets a chance to try and think of a warming charm he hears something that sends a new kind of chill down his spine, eyes going impossibly wide and wand pointed into the direction it came. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not even Harrys’ terrified gasps make it past the hand he’s clapped over his mouth, illuminated wand aimed in the direction he’s sure he heard it, the unmistakable sound of someone clearing their throat in annoyance. It’s a sound he’s been on the receiving end of countless times back at the Dursleys.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“W- Who’s there? Show yourself!” Harry calls, impressed that his voice doesn’t tremble despite himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tsk, put your wand away boy. That isn’t how you light this place.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s a moment where Harry thinks he may have lost his mind since as he watches with a morbid fascination, the shadows Harry is casting by a now trembling wand light begin to flutter away like smoke (if he was truly paying attention, he would note it’s more of a </span>
  <em>
    <span>slither</span>
  </em>
  <span>) only to gather in one spot until there’s an unmistakable form of a man taking shape. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even Harry, Gryffindor extraordinaire as people think of him has his limits and he stumbles backwards with a shout, visions of Tom Riddle clouding his mind and the man, if that is what it is, continues to approach, closing the Atrium door behind Harry with such an easy breath of parseltongue that the Gryffindor flinches. There’s no sorting hat or fawkes or even bloody Malfoy to save him now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stop that. Repeat after me, ‘</span>
  <b>
    <em>Cicur Accendo</em>
  </b>
  <span>.’ I’m not going to hurt you boy but let me </span>
  <em>
    <span>see </span>
  </em>
  <span>you and allow yourself to see me.” Comes the gentle encouragement of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing </span>
  </em>
  <span>posing as a man.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s definitely some parts in this tale that Harry might need to rethink sharing with his friends if he ever does so and the absolute foolishness of casting a spell that he has never heard of before, asked of him by some </span>
  <em>
    <span>shadow monster </span>
  </em>
  <span>in the Chamber of Secrets will definitely not be making the cut. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>
    <em>Cicur Accendo</em>
  </b>
  <span>.” Harry calls clearly after he’s sure he’s got his mouth around the strangeness of the spell, unaware he has switched to Parseltongue and the Gryffindor gasps as the entire Chamber is suddenly </span>
  <em>
    <span>alight. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Within every pool of water and every drip of damp there emanates a soft blue light, accentuated by the rows and rows of scones he had failed to notice jumping to life and burning brightly with a fierce white fire Harry has never seen before. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This Chamber was watertight once upon a time, the edges would be the only blue.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Having forgotten all about the bloke beside him in favour of squinting into said (noisily leaking) Chamber, almost a new room now that it was lit and Harry stumbles over his words, “Who are you? What are you doing here?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not that Harry is entirely stupid, if that striking similarity between that giant ugly head leering at him down there and the slightly less ugly and younger bloke leering at him </span>
  <em>
    <span>right here</span>
  </em>
  <span> are anything to go by even Harry can work that first puzzle out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man in question is busy gazing around like Harry had been just a moment ago, hands on his hips and lips pursed into a thin line. “I am, of course, the architect of this unfinished mockery of my accomplishments. Salazar Slytherin, son of Geralt Slytherin, at your service.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t seem to pull the desired reaction out of Harry and the man sneers down his nose at him and Harry </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows </span>
  </em>
  <span>that’s a housetrait, even if that sorting hat won’t sing about it. “This is where you bow and introduce yourself.” The man encourages with a baleful roll of his eyes, extending a hand as if to drag the gesture out of him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hippogriff shit.” Harry can’t help himself, what are the chances this isn’t just Voldemort up to another trick? Who is to say he didn’t leave a few traps behind down here… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me? I hope that is your name and not a mere reflection of an appalling upbringing.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Salazar Slytherin is long dead, who are you trying to kid, Riddle?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>“You dare to use that name alongside mine! The false heir! The traitor. The unraveller.” </em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shocked into a stupor the crust coated Gryffindor blinks owlishly wide eyes behind his grimy spectacles, lifting the hand not holding his wand to rub at the back of his neck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Er, right, sorry about that then but still, you expect me to believe that you’re Salazar Slytherin? How are you even here?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man lifts a sardonic eyebrow, “This is my Chamber, shouldn’t I be asking that of you?” Taking the time to look Harry over the man appears amused when he notices the Gryffindor lion adorning his robes and Harry flashes him a smug smile, a fuck you to every time Malfoy tried boasting about his precious (now ex) founder and his hatred for Gryffindors. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Look at the little lion in your snake pit, look at how he conquered it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright then, I’m Harry.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Somewhat less distasteful than Hippogriff shit I suppose. To answer at least a couple of your questions, Harry, let me begin by offering my thanks as I would not have been able to claim some physical form if not for you and your sacrifice back when you took down my corrupted Basilisk. Your blood and that blonde boys were </span>
  <em>
    <span>quite </span>
  </em>
  <span>the power boost I needed.” There’s something about the way that Salazar looks at Harry, appraising and accessing and Harry, by now used to those with preconceived opinions about him flushes and stands a little taller under the look.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not all that dissimilar to that diary you destroyed last year that held some of its original owner, each stone in this Chamber was laid by me, by my magic, my touch and it </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows </span>
  </em>
  <span>me in a way a newborn child knows its mother from months in their womb. It captured and remembered me, my essence, a once common form of magical architecture, you realise? To infuse a house with sacrifices of one’s own magic is what allows for the taking of deep root warding. Add a few rituals I created myself, quite a lot of blood offerings over a year and part of me, a ghost of who I am was </span>
  <em>
    <span>supposed </span>
  </em>
  <span>to reside here forever in this form but something did not quite take, I was forced to live in my portrait alone. Have done, for what I can only assume to be centuries— Until you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s a lot to take in and Harry wonders if it would be so easy for another magical child to believe this fantastical tale like he did? Or if discovering this entire new world so late in life unlike those of ‘pure’ blood, at eleven years old, made believing in the seemingly impossible that much easier. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alternatively, perhaps Harry was just gullible and desperate enough for it</span>
  <em>
    <span> not </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be Tom Riddle enough to be taken in by any old witch's tale.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You brilliantly brave boy.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The praise catches Harry off guard and he gapes at Salazar, brow sunk low on his forehead in thought, his mouth doesn’t react to the words but there’s a pleasant peachy blush creeping up out of the neck of his oxford. “Uh, you’re not mad then? That I killed your snake?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s a pressure on his back, a blossom of warmth like nothing he has experienced before and when he glances back it’s to see the deep contrasting shadows that make up Salazars hand are patting him there, in what Harry might guess is a Fatherly manner, “Oh no, boy. You did a good job, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>monster </span>
  </em>
  <span>had taken her and used the years of isolation to warp her brain into something even I, in my full form, likely would not have stood a chance at bringing back from the brink. Her name was Shira and she would not have wanted to live like that, she was born to protect the students, not to endanger them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guilt he hadn’t realised he’d possessed at having taken the life of something living seems to lift off of his shoulders like a goose down blanket and Harrys shoulders sag with the relief of it. “That’s good then, I guess. She definitely didn’t like me very much.” The spot in which he was bitten pulses as if it senses his thoughts and he reaches out to rub the ghost of a wound, long healed by Fawkes and their tears. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re cold.” It isn’t a question, Salazar takes in the young boy (and a boy he is, despite his bravado and past experiences) and notices for the first time that he shivers, and tenses his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. “Come, follow me, there’s a warmer place we can talk down here.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>“Fateor.” </em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The silence of the Chamber only becomes obvious when grinding stone replaces it, torches flaring to life in a corner Harry could have sworn did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>have the glowing outline of a door there when he had looked earlier and Salazar winks at the disgruntled and confused expression on Harry’s face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It is called the Chamber of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Secrets</span>
  </em>
  <span> for a reason. Many big, more small, you could spend years with me at your side and we still would not visit them all so let us first visit my particular favourite— The Library.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione was here in spirit, it seemed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Altogether overwhelmed and desperate for some </span>
  <em>
    <span>warmth</span>
  </em>
  <span>— Harry makes a note to bring jumpers next time, his head jerks stiffly in a nod and he collects his things to follow Salazar through the glowing doorway, breath stolen at the sight that meets his eyes.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>--</p><p>Massive thank you for reading.</p><p>What do you lot think of Salazar? I've always found it a wasted opportunity that the Chamber was just forgotten about until they needed a fang and doesn't our boy hero deserve some kind of positive influence? </p><p>If you're interested in me introducing any of the other founders please let me know, I don't want to bombard this fic with all the tropes under the sun but they're definitely something I'd love to write into this eventually.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Apologies for the delay! </p><p>I'm sure you all understand with the Corona Virus craziness that is the world right now.</p><p>--</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Above Harry towers shelves of books in dark endless stacks that one by one flare to life with a golden light bright enough to have the teenager squinting behind his glasses, lifting a hand to block the glare. It’s then that Harry can see the room is circular and larger by far than the Hogwarts library, the ceiling a huge dome filled with </span>
  <em>
    <span>real, moving </span>
  </em>
  <span>clouds and a crisp baby blue ceiling. It’s a summer sky and it’s only then that Harry notes the drastic change of temperature, breathing in the warm air of the library with hungry ice choked lungs, freezing fists unclenching to circlulate some blood back through his numb fingers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Welcome to Lux Aeterna.” Salazar boasts with a grand sweep of his arm, “Rowena and I spent years cultivating this collection with some of the most brilliant minds of the times. What you see here was once a grand resource to be gifted to our magical brethren; alas, like most of my work beneath the castle, it lays incomplete and abandoned.” The defeated and regretful look upon the old wizard's face makes Harry acutely uncomfortable and he shifts his weight from side to side, the only sound his scruffy trainers make against the stone floor. “Well it looks pretty cool but I’m not much of a reader, my friend Hermione would be impressed though, Malfoy too.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Attention captured and mourning for now forgotten Salazar turns his focus back to Harry and rolls his eyes, “I assure you, everybody can become an avid reader given the correct books to read— And I’m sure there will be something amongst these shelves that would capture your imagination, for example, those things upon your face, your spectacles— There are more ways than I can count upon my hands to fix your vision.” Suddenly bashful Harry touches his glasses, glancing at Salazar, “But nobody has ever mentioned that to me before, how come?” At this the man sneers and beckons Harry towards one of the many magically spiralling staircases that edge the shelves, the Gryffindor gaping as it begins to lift them without command, “That I believe is down to an age old grudge, a lifetime of war and blood spilt upon rumor and misconception and feuds.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tell me, Harry,” Salazar draws them to a stop with a wrap of his knuckles against the wood of the stairs, ushering the Gryffindor down the narrow balcony to a pair of comfortable arm chairs set into an alcove, “What do you know of the power that runs through your body, the magic you use in your day to day life?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh, I mean— I know I was born with magic, my Dad was a wizard and my mum a witch.” Harry answers as he takes his seat, careful not to mention his Mother is a Muggleborn, not yet, not when an adult is for once speaking to him like he was worth their time of day and Salazars reputation was well known, it’s merely another drop of shame into Harry's growing pool of guilt he’s begun growing this year. “I was raised by my Muggle relatives though, my parents died when I was young and I didn’t find out I was a wizard til I got my Hogwarts letter.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Harry Potter.” Salazar summarises with a slight narrowing of his eyes and his lips a tight line, “I should have known, many things make sense now.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re dead— How did you know that?” Harry questions a little defensively, abandoning all attempts at tact now that his brief taste of anonymity was ruined. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I told you I had a portrait, did I not? I may not visit the castle but the </span>
  <em>
    <span>others </span>
  </em>
  <span>do and your name and that of </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>are of the few that stand out amongst their chatter.” Harry can only assume that Salazar is talking about the other founders and has to bite his lip to stop himself asking about Gryffindor but Salazars piercing look makes it clear it didn’t do much good, the man could tell what was on his mind regardless.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you’ve always been around in portraits why does nobody know?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We do not make a habit of revealing ourselves any longer, it has led more often to peril than much else.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So why me?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Salazar leans forwards with an invasive spread of his legs, elbows resting upon his knees and chin perched upon the cushion that his hands make. The man's brows are arched and he levels Harry with a considering look behind those piercing dark eyes, “You have reached the crux of things much quicker than I expected you to. Why you, indeed. That is an easy question to answer in a breath but the implications and what it means for you could be far reaching and irreversible— Are you certain you wish to know?” The loose strands of hair that have fallen from the man's ponytail fall over his eyes with the tilt of his head and he brushes them back impatiently, “I will not fault you if you choose ignorance and peace over knowledge and upheaval.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As much as Harry has complained in the last few months about the lack of information from the adults around him regarding Sirius Black and the true implications of the man's escape it’s surreal to be presented with options like this and Harry's mouth falls open in a soft ‘o’, unused to adults being quite so forthcoming. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t take the raven haired boy long to make a decision.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I want to know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re certain?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I mean, I’m already the Boy Who Lived to the masses and people already want me dead so what could it hurt if my life got a little more complicated.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Throwing his head back Salazar laughs and slaps the side of his knee, surprising Harry with the sound it makes when before the shadow made body had not been so corporeal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I suppose that is why you ended up in the house of my beloved and not in mine. The youths of this age are bold beyond their years.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not giving Harry any time to dwell on that piece of information that has his eyes blown wide the man continues, “Let me begin by telling you two things. First, history is written by the victors, Harry. That means that often things are distorted or altered altogether, your history that calls itself fact is </span>
  <em>
    <span>false </span>
  </em>
  <span>in what it says of me and my relationship with Hogwarts, many things are true, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>wish to teach those of magical ancestry only, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>have many a quarrel with the others regarding my teaching methods but let it be known if only to you alone, Harry, not once did we turn our backs on eachother.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Opening his mouth to argue that Salazar must have left Hogwarts for </span>
  <em>
    <span>some </span>
  </em>
  <span>reason if things are left unfinished he’s interrupted by a lift of the hand and a soft shake of the wizards head, requesting silence so that he can continue, defeated Harry sits back and fiddles with a button on his oxford as the man goes on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I will not sit here and lie to you and say I hold those of Muggle parentage dear to my heart but </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>did I seek to deny them entry to this school, this castle was built as a refuge for all of us of possessing the gift of magic and though the practice has long been abandoned, it was even once the norm for squids to attend classes amongst these walls.” Salazar sighs with a moistening of his lips, “There is much forgotten to magical folk these days, the old ways are all but abandoned and left to wither into nothingness and those that do still follow choose to bastardize them in the name of </span>
  <em>
    <span>purity.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Salazar looks pained, “My very fears have come to fruition and there is naught I can do but regret that what had been but a ripple of dissension has blossomed into two sides of the same coin at war.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It all sounds far too familiar and Harry realises that Malfoy had said something similar weeks earlier and Harry finds a sick amusement that the blonde will never know Salazar Slytherin echoes his sentiment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So… Purebloods against uh, Not-Purebloods?” Harry cannot bring himself to call himself and those like Mrs Weasley a blood-traitor, even his pool of guilt may overflow at some point. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not quite, blood is irrelevant in the true essence of magic it is the ignorance that poses the problem. You think of magic and of what kinds do you think?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It seems that Salazar is waiting for an answer this time and Harry hesitates, recalling Malfoys complaints in The Archives and altering his initial response, “I know what you’re trying to say, Malfoy has already given me the chat about Dark Arts.” The petulant teenager rolls his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, has he now? I don’t think he knows all that about what he is talking about if he names it ‘Dark Arts’” That is twice, Salazar notes, the name ‘Malfoy’ has come from his young heirs mouth but he chooses not to bring it up quite yet, just like the heirdom itself, there’s too much to know of the boy before learning of his friends, “Has he told you that once there was no such thing as branches of magic? Merely types of practitioner, in the golden age we did not use terms as ‘Light’ and ‘Dark’ merely ‘Tame’ and ‘Wild’, we would offer our thanks to the Gods and revel in </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>of the gifts we were offered, even those your people now regard as unsavory.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They don’t teach us any of this.” Harry complains, irritated and confused and unsure what to believe. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They could not if they do not know it themselves, they are victims of their own ignorance as much as you. Our people have allowed the fearful and the unassuming too much sway over the way things run, the castle herself mourns the loss of bodies within her. She once housed whole families and scholars, guests and government officials that fueled her with their magic and now she must sustain herself off of the magic of </span>
  <em>
    <span>children </span>
  </em>
  <span>alone.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>She?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Harry queries incredulously. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have seen few men possess such a beauty as Hogwarts does when setting one's eyes upon her and she takes kindly to being reminded of how pretty she is.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry thinks of Malfoy and his clear skin and delicate pointed features and wants to argue, some blokes could </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>be beautiful but he too knows the feeling of awe every year that he struggles to hide when setting his eyes on the castle each september and keeps his mouth shut.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Magical blood is important but not for the reasons you are used to wizards believing, Harry. There is </span>
  <em>
    <span>power </span>
  </em>
  <span>inside of it and the things that one can accomplish using it are extraordinary even inside the realms of magic, forget not that it was the spilling of that blood from yourself in the Chamber that allowed my rebirth— If that is what we shall call it. The rituals, the rites, all of them grant power through </span>
  <em>
    <span>connection </span>
  </em>
  <span>alike blood; it is the notice of this joining we all share and the respect and feeding of it that grants power beyond just wand waving.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So you </span>
  <em>
    <span>are </span>
  </em>
  <span>alive then? If you were reborn?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no, forgive the confusing phrasing, Harry. I am a mere copy of a soul,” Salazar pauses to narrow his eyes, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Not </span>
  </em>
  <span>the product of a splitting. I am the fruit of long labour but I have restrictions, I cannot leave the castle or her grounds. You can think of me like a ghost, if you desire, it may prove easier. I’m the first of its kind,” Salazar intones with more than a little smugness, “My limitations will live to be seen but I believe I can access magic if necessary.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is all bloody confusing. My head hurts.” Harry complains weakly, rubbing his forehead and wincing when he presses too roughly against his scar, “So you’re telling me that basically everything I have learnt since I joined the Wizarding World is a lie.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not as such,” Salazar laughs, “Your people believe their lies to be the truth and even those closer to the truth are far off. Your Malfoy, I am sure there is much he holds true to be false, no?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry squirms, muttering about ‘not my Malfoy’ before reluctantly nodding, “He’s one of those Purebloods that think anyone with any Muggle blood is dirty.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, one of my Slytherins indeed, boastful and proud in their ignorance, it does not surprise me that he would hold such beliefs.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Actually he’s a Gryffindor now.” Harry intones and this time he is the one able to flash his boastful smirk, “He got resorted for his own protection.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“... I will be having words with that cursed hat of hers.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tell me about it, I had to argue the bloody thing Gryffindor.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” There’s a foreboding look in Salazars eyes and Harry sinks down into the comfortable leather of his armchair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So it went like this…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They spent all night in that alcove, talking of Harrys past and history and Salazars own, the older wizard laughing outrageously at the Gryffindors blush upon discovery that in the past Godric and Salazar had been bonded. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lovers. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He’d received a wallop on the back of his head from a corporeal founder of Slytherin when he’d repeated some comment of Uncle Vernons about ‘shirt lifters.’ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s freeing to be honest about the misery that has made up his childhood, knowing that Salazar will not and possibly can not tell anybody else about his mistreatment at the hands of the Dursleys is </span>
  <em>
    <span>liberating</span>
  </em>
  <span> and there’s something gratifying in the rage and fury that burns in the old man's expression when he is told, promising Harry to teach him methods of defense and revenge if the Gryffindor returned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time Harry has dragged himself back to bed in time to avoid the morning patrol he is exhausted but exhilarated and he spends the time until morning writing down questions to ask Salazar on Friday, when Harry has promised to return to the Chamber. Next time he can return through the warm and dry staircase entrance Salazar showed him whilst (unsuccessfully) trying not to laugh at the image of Harry using a flood precaution as an entrance. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry would have to make sure to make it up to Myrtle for his lack of frequent visits to the girls bathroom in the future as he had originally planned </span>
  <em>
    <span>or</span>
  </em>
  <span> maybe she could befriend Salazar.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It turns out that discovering a mostly friendly Founder that seemed to want to take you under their wing was much more exciting than Harry's original plan of making a den to study alone down there.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>--</p><p>From this point onwards expect slower but significantly longer chapters. I think it will allow me to cover more material and get better at transitions but for now I wanted to keep the first Chamber interactions to one or two chapters. </p><p>Next up: Remus! Boggarts! Malfoy! </p><p>As always, all feedback appreciated! Please keep the comments coming, they really do keep me motivated and any suggestions / feedback will definitely be taken on board. I may even throw you in in the future as an OC as a thank you.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>The sound of Malfoy bouncing that blasted ball he had pilfered from Dean against the wall was going to drive Ron mad the redhead decided from his position sat on his own bed, pulling on his socks and glaring a hole into the side of the blonde's head. It appears from the slow, vindictive smile aimed Rons way that that’s just what Malfoy is going for and the Weasley grinds his teeth in frustration, counting to ten and reaching four before giving up and launching himself to his feet, “Will you bloody knock that off before I shove that ball up your rotten arse, Malfoy!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The blonde pauses, clutching the luminescent yellow ball in his fist and narrowing his eyes, “Don’t go making promises you can’t keep, Weasley.” It gets the desired effect, Ron's face twists in revulsion and he hurls one of his shoes a few inches shy of Draco's head causing the blonde to snort, “Best leave the Quidditch to Potter with aim like that.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Weasley fumes and storms into the bathroom they’re all waiting for Potter to emerge from before heading down for breakfast and the blonde sighs dramatically, kicking his feet against the base of his bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fun ruined Draco drops the ball into his bag and rolls his neck, releasing a satisfying stream of cracks that makes Neville turn a little green from where he’s watering some ghastly looking plant on the windowsill that he’s grown from a cutting. Draco has found himself grudgingly growing to respect Longbottom in the time that has passed this term, the boy is soft spoken and rather dull but he can raise his head and speak up when necessary and it was obvious he had a natural gift in Herbology. Such a gift in fact that the blonde had already begun his plan to butter up the chubby boy to aid him in collecting ingredients for his entry for the upcoming Potions Championship held at the end of the year; catching Nevilles eye Draco flashes him a </span>
  <em>
    <span>charming </span>
  </em>
  <span>grin, tinged with apology and shrugs the rest of the kinks out of his system, a touch irritated but mostly amused when the boy looks </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrified </span>
  </em>
  <span>at his attempt at kindness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ron! Harry! Draco! If you’re not down here in two minutes I’m leaving without you.” Granger's voice drifts up from the Common Room below and Draco grimaces at the foul mood Potter's tardiness has caused in the fickle witch already, earning something that resembles a look of commiseration from Longbottom. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s it. You two love birds can continue whatever it is you’re up to there, I’m taking Granger to breakfast.” With a huff Draco throws his bag over his shoulder and glares at the bathroom door, silent in response to his declaration in a way that makes his teeth grind. Never would he have faced this kind of disrespect in Slytherin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come, Granger.” Draco declares as he reaches the bottom of the stairs, nose in the air and hair perfectly styled because </span>
  <em>
    <span>some</span>
  </em>
  <span> respectable Wizards rose early enough to do so, “Those buffoons don’t appear to be joining us anytime soon, let’s just go without them, I’ve been meaning to discuss our Runes essay with you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco isn’t blind to the looks he receives walking the halls with Granger from others of his ilk and </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows, </span>
  </em>
  <span>no strike that, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>prays </span>
  </em>
  <span>it gets back to his Father. A rather succinct ‘fuck you’ if he ever could conceive one and the added bonus of Granger being pretty decent wasn’t to be overlooked. Not that he’d admit that at wandpoint, of course. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On the other side of the blonde stands the aforementioned Muggleborn, eye-rolling concealed behind her book that Draco never tries to look too hard behind. Hermione is no fool, nor blind and she knows that the blonde is using her and it gives her a rather smug satisfaction to watch the staunch Pureblooded students flinch when she leans too close to the blonde. That she may be slowly eroding some of the gits prejudices while she was at it was only an added bonus, </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>no longer flinched afterall. Just the other day Hermione had found herself in a hushed conversation with Draco about the merits of dental floss after he’d caught her using some after breakfast and she had owled home to request a start package in Muggle dental care for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <b>——————</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Defense Against the Dark Arts was </span>
  <em>
    <span>still </span>
  </em>
  <span>Harrys favourite lesson, no matter what Salazar had to say about the subject and Professor Lupin was shaping up to be their first decent teacher for it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good morning, guys. ‘Lo, watch your laces there, Mr Longbottom.” The mousy haired man chuckles, patting a blushing Neville on the back and sticking out a hand before anybody can enter the classroom, instead drawing them further down the hall towards an empty classroom, “A bit of hands-on learning today, class. We’ll be helping with the removal of a Boggart.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lavender Brown can be heard audibly complaining about the dust on her robes as they gather in the classroom and Lupin vanishes it from the air and her robes with a lazy wave of his wand that has other students gazing in awe. It wasn’t often you got to witness non-verbal magic afterall. “Bloody brilliant that.” Ron praises under his breath, nudging Harry with his elbow and the raven haired boy grunts his agreement, a bit distracted by the ominous chest in the corner.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can anybody tell me what a Boggart is?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermiones hand makes it into the air only a millisecond before Dracos and they turn to glare at each other before looking back at the Professor, so insync it’s kind of creepy and Harry shares a disturbed look with Ron while Professor Lupin laughs and picks somebody else entirely which makes them both scowl.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A Boggart is a dark creature that takes the shape of what people fear the most.” Parvati Patil answers confidently after being chosen and only Draco witnesses the dark look she earns from her dorm mate in response. Granger's Muggle blood aside, the girl is </span>
  <em>
    <span>pure </span>
  </em>
  <span>Slytherin at times and Draco coughs to mask his snort. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Very good, Ms Patil, five points to Gryffindor.” Professor Lupin perches upon a wobbly desk and folds his hands over his knees, “A Boggart does indeed take the shape of whatever the person, and make no mistake class, the Boggarts can be seen by Muggle and Magical alike, fears the most. It’s a defensive tactic to warn attackers away from wherever it is the creature has made their home.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What does it look like wit’out a fear?” Seamus calls and at the lift of Lupins brow the Irishmans hand lifts into the air grudgingly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Excellent question, Mr Finnigan. Nobody knows the </span>
  <em>
    <span>true </span>
  </em>
  <span>form of a Boggart and if anybody did the knowledge is long lost.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry wonders what Salazar would have to say about that and makes a mental note to ask the wizard about it on Friday. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now today we’re going to begin by learning how to conquer a Boggart, one must think about their fear and how to make it amusing, be that a tarantula with spaghetti for legs or something else. The wand movement is as follows and the incantation is ‘Riddikulus’ but the spell alone will do nothing if you do not keep your focus and your defense in mind. Take a few moments, think about your fear and we’ll begin.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even trying to think about his fear makes Harry shudder, the image of rotting skeletal fingers reaching for him from decaying robes and a gaping </span>
  <em>
    <span>starving </span>
  </em>
  <span>maw— Harry only snaps out of it when he feels a sharp kick against his shin and he spins to glare at Malfoy who merely lifts his lips in a sly attempt at a smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Professor Lupin stands from his perch and gestures Neville forwards, “Mr Longbottom, I think you will be perfect to go first.” The older Gryffindor man had noticed the Potions Professors nasty mistreatment of the young man and he felt somewhat responsible for restoring any confidence the dour man managed to snatch from the budding teen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Looking to all the world like he may throw up on his shoes Neville stumbles forwards and takes his turn, leaving the rest of the class in stitches at the picture Snape makes in grandmother's clothing. There’s little more to note of anybody else until it’s Malfoys turn and the blonde is left stumbling as the vicious form of his Father wishes death upon him, mourning the loss of Narcissa’s other pregnancies and that it had to be his </span>
  <em>
    <span>sickly and weak mistake that survived. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To Dracos increasing mortification it was Granger that swept him aside and cast his Father away with a wave of her wand when he was little but a shaking </span>
  <em>
    <span>useless </span>
  </em>
  <span>child in front of him and Lupin waited a moment too long to step in. The blonde is out of the classroom before his classmates can even draw a breath, humiliation and fury creating a volatile monster that hexes four portraits in its haste to retreat into a bathroom. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Later, when Harry is sat discussing the disaster that had been his own Boggart with Professor Lupin who has pulled him aside the Gryffindor can’t help but joke about Malfoy having missed it and Remus frowns, “I do feel quite awful about that, I should have intervened before Ms Granger did, like I did for you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nah, it’s Malfoy, he’s a git.” Harry shrugs though he hadn’t outright laughed like Ron had after the blonde had stormed off and he shifts uncomfortably under the look he receives in response, “You should take better care of your fellows, Harry. Kindness begets kindness.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right, sorry, my bad.” Harry grumbles, finishing the chocolate in his hand before hopping to his feet, “I better get back to the Common Room before ‘Mione sends a search party after me.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight, Harry.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Night, Professor.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>——————</b>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Upon returning to the Gryffindor Common Room he’s met with chaos amongst his fellow Third Years, dark brows creeping up behind his glasses when he realises it’s his best friends that are the ones shouting. Malfoy appears to be the only one unbothered, sat with his legs folded beneath him and his usual journal and potions text upon his lap while Hermione stands at the end of the couch, clutching her ginger beast to her chest protectively. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You need to get that monster put down, Hermione! It’s a hazard to us all.” Ron cries from the base of the boys stairs, holding a squealing Scabbers in his meaty hands and Harry groans at the familiar argument, dropping down next to Malfoy with a weary sigh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ronald might I remind you that </span>
  <em>
    <span>rats </span>
  </em>
  <span>aren’t even on the assigned pets list.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So you’re going to snitch are you?” Ron sneers nastily and even Harry raises a brow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What— No! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ron.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just keep that thing away from Scabbers!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course this is when Malfoy has to open his mouth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Personally I think you should feel flattered that the cat even wants to eat that mangy creature, Weasley. How old is that thing? It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>unnatural </span>
  </em>
  <span>and stinks of piss</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can fuck off an’ all, Malfoy!” Ron growls and storms upstairs towards the boys room leaving the Common Room in an awkward silence until Seamus snorts and then Dean titters and before Harry knows what’s going on the whole room is snickering.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Malfoys ears are pink and he hides a pleased smile by tucking his chin and burying himself in his book but Harry notices and doesn’t know if he should feel good about Malfoy beginning to fit right in here or not. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>——————</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unable to sleep that night Harry finds himself in The Archives beneath his invisibility cloak, ignoring the curfew as usual and reading up on his family, amused to discover it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>Grandfather that created Sleekeazy’s and that his disaster of a hair was a hereditary trait and not just… A Harry problem. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s something that confuses Harry however, there’s frequent mentions of a ‘Family Estate’ and he has little clue what the books are talking about though he reckons Malfoy will know. Property makes the most logical sense but surely not, Harry would know, someone would have told him that he did… Right?</span>
</p><p>
  
</p>
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